Collateral (Collateral Damage 1)

“Are you sure Stefan didn’t pawn me off on you?” I ask when he switches the radio to an Italian channel.

“I don’t think Stefan sees you as something to pawn off.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Are you the reason for the bandage on his hand?”

I nod, feeling guilty. “It was an accident. At least, I didn’t mean to do it, but I haven’t seen him to tell him. To apologize.”

“I’m sure you can do it when he’s back. He’s a pretty understanding guy.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it. Listen, I’ve known Stefan all my life. Grew up with him. I’ve never known him to treat anyone unfairly.”

“So, what he’s doing to me is fair, then?”

Rafa goes silent for a minute. “You don’t know all the details, Gabriela. And besides, you have his protection. That’s something.”

I chuckle. “I don’t have his protection, Rafa. I have his wrath, simply for the fact of my parentage.”

His phone rings and he digs it out of his pocket with one hand while keeping the other on the wheel.

“Speak of the devil.” He puts a finger to his lips, and I wonder if he doesn’t want Stefan to know he’s taking me along to his meeting.

“Stef,” he answers.

Stefan talks and I strain to listen, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

Rafa reassures him of something then asks how his trip is going. At Stefan’s answer, Rafa chuckles. They then disconnect and Rafa puts the phone in a pocket on the front console.

“Looks like Stefan will be gone one more night.”

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Here and there.”

I want to ask what that means but Rafa turns the radio up and starts to sing along so I shift my gaze out the window and watch the scenery which, like he said, is beautiful.Rafa drives about twenty miles over the limit and we arrive in just over two-and-a-half hours. He explains that Taormina proper is about ten minutes farther, but we’ll go after lunch.

He slows the car once we reach a secluded restaurant and Rafa hands his keys to the valet. He slips on a jacket, which surprises me as this seems like a casual place.

“Grab your bikini. You can go to the beach after we eat.”

“Okay.” I bring my bag and step onto the sandy path leading to the building. Music plays outside and although there are about a dozen tables inside the cool building, most of the seating is on the beach under palm trees which are blowing in the breeze. Even in their shade, it’s hot.

I excuse myself to use the ladies’ room and when I return, I find Rafa talking to someone. When that man sees me, he gives me a cold look, then tells Rafa he’ll see him soon.

“Outside or inside?” Rafa asks me, still casual, as if he didn’t notice the way the man looked at me.

“Outside, if you don’t mind. I like the heat.”

“Me too.”

He puts a hand at my lower back, and we follow a hostess outside to an out of the way table.

When I sit down, I slip off my sandals and dig my toes into the warm, soft sand. I watch the kids playing on the beach while their parents sit with bottles of wine on their tables eating heaping plates of fresh seafood. The band is set at the far end and they’re playing an upbeat tune. Colorful lights are strung above our heads, so many of them that they almost make a canopy.

“It must be pretty at night,” I comment.

“It is. Especially with the moon on the water.”

A waitress appears with a bucket of ice and a bottle of white wine.

I remember my hangover of a few nights ago but feel like a child to order a coke instead so I let Rafa pour for both of us and I just sip from my glass.

I open my menu but Rafa interrupts. “They have a daily catch. It’s always amazing and fresh. Do you like fish?”

“Very much.”

“I suggest you take the special then.”

“Okay, sounds good to me.” I close my menu.

“Two of the fresh catch please,” he tells the waitress in Italian, giving her a charming, disarming smile.

I study that smile. It’s so at odds with the man of the other night.

A moment later when she walks away, there’s a momentary awkwardness.

“Stefan doesn’t know I’m here, does he?” I finally ask.

“I’ll tell him when he’s back.”

“He won’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“I accused him of being jealous of you.”

He smiles wide, showing off big white teeth. “Sounds about right,” he says with a wink. “Don’t worry about Stefan. His bark is worse than his bite.”

I’m not so sure.

“I’ll tell him I made you come with me, so you won’t be in trouble.”

“I won’t be in trouble. I’m not a child and I’m not afraid of him.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You should be, Gabriela. You should take care with him.” His expression has gone deadly serious and his words send a chill through me.